I just got back from a weekend of canvassing in Northeast Philadelphia and was happy to find myself a little more welcome this time. During the primaries in April I was ringing some of those same bells and meeting a lot of resistance from Hillary supporters, and she ended up surfing on their love like a rock star stage diving into a most pit: She beat us there soundly, taking nearly 75% of the Democratic vote.
A lot of those folks told me they had reservations about Obama then, but that they would support him in the general election, and lo: Obama-Biden signs festooned many of the lawns in those neighborhoods, which range socio-economically from solidly middle class to just barely making it. (There were plenty of McCain signs, too, sometimes on the same lawns, and knocking on some of those doors — the doorbells were often broken — I found a house divided, family members split between our man and JMC.)
The tactic this time was to ask targeted voters which issues were foremost for them as the election approached, and not surprisingly the economy was number one. Layoffs and unemployment were a common theme, and the anger they engendered was largely directed at the party in power. In some cases that anger seems to have morphed into anomie: I smelled pot at a few homes, middle-aged guys baking in front of the TV set in the middle of the afternoon, pulling the hole in behind them as they sank.
The stakes are high in Philly: the staffer running our district informed the volunteers (nearly all carpetbaggers from Brooklyn) that Kerry had carried Philadelphia by 80% in the last election — and they estimated Obama would need closer to 85% of the vote to carry the state. That’s a lot of angry white guys voting for a cool black dude, something unimaginable in previous years.
But this isn’t previous years. For a lot of these folks, the ship is already sinking and they were ready to try something new. As one of the more visible Democratic signs said simply, “Had Enough?” Even those who saw McCain as separate from his party had to admit he was fronting the same team that had stood by as the walls collapsed and the building burned, and they are ready to change the pitcher, if not the whole team.
Saturday night, after hitting about a hundred households, I ate an early dinner at a Northeast cheese steak joint called Steve’s Prince of Steaks. The choices are pretty simple — with or without onions? American cheese or Whiz? — and though most of the crowd there did not smile at the sight of my Obama button, they didn’t tell me to go to hell, either. This is also a simple choice.
Do you know how long it has been since I had a cheese steak? It’s those damned signs telling me how many calories a single sandwich holds, and it makes me want to eat an apple and cower in the corner away from fatty foods.
Other than that, people like you that have the time to campaign in places like Pennsylvania have my respect. It what will hopefully make Obama our president.
or at least president of cheese steaks